Drakon Academy Book I
by bloodrose1828
Summary: Kylee has been through a lot in her life, losing her mother, dealing with a new stepmother and stepsisters, and now suddenly with a underhanded dealing by her stepmother...a new school. Everything she has ever known is about to change dramatically. Join Kylee on her new journey through her new school where she discovers new things about herself and the world around her. Rate & Rev


**One**

"Kylee, don't wander off, we'll be leaving soon."

I didn't have to turn to see my mama was angry with me. Her voice was clipped with annoyance. I could almost hear her frown when she spoke to me. Mama had short brown hair that was professionally and sharply cut at her chin and her bangs cut at her eyebrows. She wore a feminine yet professional looking suit. It was tailored to fit her body and mama looked very pretty in it. Mama once told me she made other lady's dreams come true. As I grew older papa explained it to me I learned she was a wedding and flower coordinator. Mama was always busy especially when the weather turned cooler, and also because she was so good at her job. Sometimes papa was working and couldn't take me with him so mama took me to her job. I had to look nice though, and that means dressing up, I don't like getting dressed up, but I like watching mama doing her job.

Today mama is getting ready for a wedding in the gardens near the house. It was so pretty, like something out of a fairytale like the ones papa read to me in secret. Mama doesn't like them, says it's not proper for a young girl to have her head in the clouds, so papa reads them to me in secret. All around me was green, large trees and bushes, flowers, it smelled so good and pretty. Everywhere there were people rushing around me, carrying flowers, chairs, or just running around frantic, if I wasn't careful I'd get trampled. It was hot outside, even for it being so early in the morning, luckily my mama put my hair into a braid, and my dress wasn't so long. Something caught my eyes; over by the bushes was the most beautiful butterfly I saw.

It was green almost as green as the trees we were surrounded by. Then the blue designs on the wings were almost as blue as the sky. It was shining and very pretty, as it floated off I was quick to follow it. Weaving between people, chairs, and I tried keeping my sight on the butterfly. The closer I get to it; it floats just out of my reach, I don't know how long I followed it or even where I was going. Suddenly I tripped and skidded onto the hard ground beneath me. Mud was on my face and my dress, mama wasn't going to be happy, I was vaguely aware of the stinging pain in my hands and shins. I sat up trying not to cry, but everything seemed to hurt. Looking at myself I was filthy and I was definitely going to get an earful from mama. There was a cut on my thigh and it was bleeding, out of the scraps and cuts that I had gotten that one had hurt the most; I bit my cheek trying to avoid crying like a little baby. The pretty butterfly that I had been following fluttered around me, I scowled at it. It had caused me to trip and fall. In my mind I knew that wasn't true, it was my own fault, I hadn't listened to mama and gotten lost and I hadn't been paying attention.

Ignoring the butterfly for a moment, I realized I wasn't alone. A little ways away in the clearing was a boy standing near a fountain. But, it wasn't like any other boy I had seen at school, he was different somehow. His hair was hanging a little bit in his face and his eyes were red, like jewels. He was a different kind of boy, something about him warned me to run away, and that he was dangerous. But there was another part of me that was genuinely curious about him, he finally seemed to notice me and I'm sure my face was red in embarrassment, to be caught tripping was one thing. But to be caught in such a way by a boy…I'd never live it down. His eyes seemed soft and kind to me, but his face held no smile. As he grew closer, the urge to run away grew more and more. From the look of him, he was a couple years older than I was, maybe seven or eight, and his hair wasn't dark brown, but mysterious black like my room at night without my nightlight. Soon he was in front of me crouched down so we were at eye level; he was balancing on the balls of his feet.

"Did you get lost?" he asked.

His voice surprised me, it was not high pitched like the other boys I knew, but somewhat deeper, a little strange but it fit him.

"I fell down following a butterfly," I muttered embarrassed.

My face felt hot, and I was pretty sure it was red in embarrassment. He chuckled.

"Insects usually cause uncoordinated moments." He admitted.

When he touched my leg, I'm not entirely sure what happened at that moment. We both had jerked back as though as we had been shocked. We stared at one another for a moment wide eyed, neither of us entirely sure of what had happened. He recovered faster than I did and was examining the cut on my leg. The fear of running away, the moment he touched my leg…it disappeared. I felt safe with him, like nothing bad or scary could happen to me. I was sort of in a daze and I didn't realize I was staring, when I noticed he was staring as well I blushed and looked away. I'm sure I saw him smirk; when I glanced over at him his mouth was nearing the cut on my leg. Before I could stop him he was already licking the wound clean. It had hurt a lot, almost as bad as when the wound was inflicted; again I bit the inside of my cheek so I didn't cry. Before I knew it he was done.

"Why did you do that, it was so dirty, you could get sick." I mumbled both frustrated and embarrassed.

He just smiled slightly and showed me my leg and the cut…it wasn't there. Somehow it was completely healed, as if it had never happened. I looked at him shocked.

"How…?"

He put his finger to his lips with a mischievous grin.

"It's a secret."

I nodded, still slightly awed and confused. But I knew what a secret was about. I had a couple with my papa. He stood to leave, I grabbed his shirt tail.

"You're leaving?"

His eyes softened and he knelt back down, taking the hand that had a hold of his shirttail.

"I have to go; I'm already breaking so many rules by being here Räe." He said looking around suspiciously.

"What rules? And how do you know my name? I don't know yours…"

"I know a lot of things about you Räe, I'm supposed to. As for my name…"

"KYLEE!"

_I never did hear what his name was, when I turned my head and I saw it was my mother who had called my name. When I looked back the boy was gone, all that was left was his memory, and a large black scale with a red shimmer._

**Ten Years Later:**

It had been nearly ten years since that day and I have the same dream nearly every night. A lot has changed. About four years ago, my mother and I were in a terrible car crash. My mother never made it, and I was emotionally scarred. I fear the sight of blood it makes me sick, needles make me nauseous, and cars still tend to freak me out. I get rigors, sick, and eventually I relive the accident in my mind and eventually throw up and/or faint. I've also only recently began speaking again, but it's rarely a word or two depending on if I'm comfortable with the person. At first it irritated the teachers, and it still does to some. But most of the teachers are now informed and don't bother me anymore.

My father was a bit more difficult for a long time. He would still read me fairytales but he seemed to be broken. After about a year he began to be his old self. He even landed a great job as professor at the local college, University of Arizona, teaching about Myths and Legends. But of course that is also where he met _her_. She was a student at the college taking my father's class as filler, her name was Fiona DelaCourt. She had curly fiery red hair and brown eyes, she was thin, petite, probably never exercised a day in her life, she had big (probably implanted) boobs, and a big butt. My father is only human; they got married when I was thirteen. Over the years her red hair eventually was dyed blonde and along with my new stepmother came two new stepsisters, Shelby and Gabriella.

My father and I weren't exactly poor, but after the accident, mom's business floundered and eventually closed, money was tight but we were never homeless and dad was always sure that we had food on the table. It wasn't until after my father landed a job at the U of A that we started to get money coming in; he was actually becoming renowned and doing lectures all over the place when he met Fiona and her daughters.

Both of girls were spoiled rotten and used to a lavish and expensive lifestyle. They were used to getting what they wanted when they wanted and how they wanted it. Fiona herself was pretty well off to start with so they were used to a certain lifestyle, I suspect that she married my father due to the prospect of money and that hers was running low. Fiona had been married two times previously and both to very wealthy men who had mysteriously died. As I began getting older the fairytale bedtime stories became a distant dream and memory, something that both my mother and Fiona shared was their distaste for the imaginative stories. Fiona was more occupied with following Hollywood and the latest fashions, and her tastes were very, very expensive. Her daughters were exactly the same way, and shared their mother's expensive taste for material things. Also like their mother, they also did not hide their dislike for me, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. Of course, they acted like perfect little angels, being polite and when my father and other important people were around. They knew how to work the atmosphere, but most of the kids at school, and of course I knew that they were Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde underneath those make-up caked exteriors.

Growing up, my father and I lived in my childhood home that consisted of two bedrooms and two bathrooms. However when mom died and dad got remarried we moved to the other side of town, Tucson was of course still hotter than hell no matter what side of the town you moved to. Dad and I had always been desert rats so the heat doesn't bother us as much. Fiona and her daughters on the other hand, were from the East Coast and weren't used to the heat, humidity and our sudden rainy monsoon seasons, they often complained about it to no end. The first floor consisted of: the living room, a small half bath complete with toilet, a sink, and a linen closet. Then there was the den, a spacious and awesome kitchen, the dining room, the garage and a small tool shed in the backyard. Our backyard was nice, not too large and not too small, over the years it had been host to several neighborhood barbecues and cook outs. The second floor consisted of: the master bedroom with master bath connected a linen closet in the laundry room complete with brand new washer and dryer, the twin's room with their own bathroom and various storage spaces.

Where was my room? Well, my room was originally the twin's room, but both Gabriella and Shelby bitched and moaned about it. So I 'graciously offered' to take the attic. My room was basically the ceiling on the second floor, complete with the drop down ladder. I installed a lock and key to the entrance as soon as we moved in. I didn't trust the twins as far as I could throw them, nor did I want them digging through and taking my things. I didn't have very much to begin with, but the few things I did have were valuable and I'm sure the twins would destroy, steal, or sell them for profit. I have a few stuffed animals adorning my mattress from friends over the years, the clothes that dad and I bought over the years in the small little dresser. I got a very nice printer, camera, and printer paper for Christmas a couple years ago. I have very few nice things, and I'm sure the twins would have no issue trashing them.

The twins and I weren't exactly on friendly terms, acting friendly in the presence of my father other officially important people, but not towards me. They wanted all the attention and would do just about anything to get it. It could get out of hand. At school they wanted all the attention from the boys. Not that it was very difficult, they wore the sexy, flashy, expensive clothes, but I suppose it wasn't the exact attention they wanted. Gabriella and Shelby weren't shy, but they don't usually get the time of day by many of the boys, unless those boys wanted to get into their pants or wanted something from them. As we're about to enter high school I've been around more guys socially than they have. To be honest I'm a bit of a tomboy, I own girly frilly clothes, but I don't wear them often. I wear Levi and Wranglers to Baby Phat and Apple Bottoms. And I prefer tennis shoes and boots compared to Jimmy Choo and Coach. I don't even own makeup. I'm also more athletically inclined than my two stepsisters, I doubt that they had never even touched a football or a kicked a soccer ball. My willingness to get down and dirty in sports made me popular with the local athletes at school. And most of those athletes were some of the hottest and the most popular boys in the school.

My stepsisters, had they had their way would have everyone believing I'd slept with everyone on the basketball team in the 8th grade. Truth is, the closest thing I'd come close to a relationship was an incident with Brian Peters of the football team at a party, that ended in disaster and I'd prefer it never happened. I knew for fact that Shelby and Gabriella were not pure or virgins, despite what they told my father and Fiona. They've slept with some nerdy kids in middle school so they could get 'A's on their homework. I haven't confirmed this, but there was a rumor flying around that they had slept with a member of the school faculty as well.

Our so-called family was always broken, or I was shoved out of the picture, somehow I assumed my father would always be there for me. With work at the local college and Fiona and the evil twins absorbing so much of his time, I rarely get to see him. Sometimes I wondered if there was ever room for me in this new dysfunctional family. I wasn't sure where I even fit in half the time.

"Dad I'm home!"

There wasn't a reply back, which generally surprised me. Usually my father was one of the first people to greet me if we were both home. Hearing the running water from upstairs, I assumed he must've been in the shower. School had ended about a half hour ago, and my dad and Fiona's cars were parked in the driveway, while the wonder-twins were at dance practice. I knew that neither of them had rhythm unless it was dirty dancing at the school dances or at clubs. My father drove a Ford Focus Hybrid, and Fiona and her expensive indulgence drove a red BMW of the latest expensive series. The insurance on that car would probably be about the same as an average mortgage payment.

I kicked off my shoes and placed them near the front door and headed in to the living room where the light was still on. The warm spice orange walls greeted me, the dark wood paneling covered about half the wall creating a warm yet sophisticated space. The carpet in here was fluffy and brown like chocolate. A large light mocha and white colored sectional was in the middle of the room, seated in the wall across the way from the sofa was a large 52" flat screen. In front of the sectional was a long light wooded coffee table, the color of the sectional and the table were nearly identical. On the other side of the room, the left side was a dark stoned faced fireplace with dark red plush chairs and rug in the front of it. The walls themselves adorned several family photos, and paintings. On the mantelpiece of the fireplace was a picture of my mother and an old wedding photo. Fiona almost had a conniption when she saw them, but father fought her opposition. So dad eventually won the argument and there the pictures sit, there weren't many of mom but the ones on the fireplace were some of the favorites.

Normally I'd stare at the photos, trying to recall some memory of my mother, one that didn't involve the accident, but today the photos weren't my current interest. On the coffee table was a large white envelope, a large packet-like one, like the ones colleges send, acceptance letters with information. Several brightly colored and official looking brochures were scattered amongst the table along with a letter and several other papers. Setting my school bag on the floor beside the couch I looked at them, the main colors seemed to be of red, gold, white and black. One of the brochures pictured an old castle-like structure made of old grey stone, some towers here and there. Surrounding the castle was lots of green, impossibly green, not Tucson-green either, more like Hawaii-green or tropics. It had a strange home-like feeling to it. Hills, lakes, and forests were also pictured. You definitely wouldn't find somewhere like this in Tucson, not even in Flagstaff or Prescott. The name caught my attention, _Drakon Academy_. The name had actually rung a bell in my head; it was a pretty well-known academy. No one knows where exactly it was, and no one knows what goes on there, most of the local kids say it's probably some snooty prep academy. From what I heard, the Academy was very picky on its students, they were specially chosen, or parents were alumni, or the parents were able to shove enough money towards the school to be accepted. There were a few Drakon Academy alumni here in town, but they were a little different, they kept to themselves and seemed a little out of it. I wasn't a judgmental person, I was simply curious, it didn't matter to me if they were to Drakon Academy, or the local high schools here in town. What did matter to me was letter that sat on the table. It was addressed to me…as was the package…

**Dear Ms. Kylee Summers,**

** We are most pleased to inform you that your application to Drakon Academy was accepted. Term begins September 1****st****, as the date draws closer you will receive your train ticket, uniform, school books, and other necessary equipment, Train ticket, uniform, school books, and other equipment has been paid for in full by a Mrs. Fiona Summers. **

I had to stop reading, the news in the first paragraph itself was almost too much to bear…I was being sent away. Hearing footsteps I looked up and saw my father. He was in his late thirties early forties, his brown hair was cut close along the side and longer about ear length on the top. His eyes were dark brown and framed by thin framed glasses, a very professional look. His hair was currently damp signifying he was in the shower just moments ago. A dark gray sweatshirt and dark washed jeans adorned him. There was a strange powerful aura around him, when he was at working it seemed more obvious and forthcoming; it was more toned down around friends or at home.

"Hey there," he said cheerfully. "I didn't know you were home."

I didn't respond I looked blankly at the letter again…rereading it, trying to make heads or tails of this.

"What've you got there?"

I was silent a moment before clearing my throat.

"How long have you known…?" I asked quietly, part of me not wanting to know the answer.

A confused looked crossed his face.

"Known about what? What are you talking about?"

I held out the letter to him as he came about and sat beside me on the couch, reading the letter as he took it from me. After a few moments, he swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair and staring at the letter once again.

"I had planned to discuss this with you to see if you had actually wanted to go. Fiona and I discussed the idea…but I didn't think she would…"

He didn't finish his sentence; he was angry and rightfully so. It was a pet peeve of my father's. He liked to discuss things and make sure all parties were on board. For Fiona to go behind his back and do this on her own, he wasn't a happy camper. Neither was I for that fact, I'm sure this Academy wasn't exactly cheap.

"I have to go…don't I?" I asked.

Beside me my father sighed.

"Apparently Fiona had already went ahead and paid for everything, so yes, I'm afraid so. I had wanted to talk to you about it and see if it was something you'd be interested in, not forced into."

So dad hadn't known at all, and all that was in my head was that Fiona had lost brownie points…major points. If I didn't trust her before, I certainly didn't trust her now; she wasn't my favorite person at the moment.

"It isn't your fault. So….what's this school like? I know it's like a prep academy right? Kids at school gossip about it but no one really knows what it is."

Dad's face at that moment seemed very far away…like he was in another time. His features grew soft and calm, the first I'd seen him relaxed and serene since mom had died.

"Your mother and I attended there, it's where we met."

Blinking in surprise I took that in, dad hadn't really talked about mom since she died. And neither of them really spoke about their life before I was born, it was a mystery to me.

"Really?"

My father nodded, his eyes drifting to the photos atop the fireplace.

"Yes, some of my fondest memories are at that school. As for what the school is about, well, you'll have to go to figure it out on your own."

I narrowed my eyes; the magical moment was ruined by my father's cryptic answer.

"More life Zen lessons?" I asked dryly.

Dad laughed lightly.

"I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but it really is a self-discovery type of place."

Normally dad explained things to me in detail. Often excruciatingly specific details, for him to be so cryptic about this, it had to be someplace special. Glancing a look back at dad he was rereading the letter again, his jaw was tight and his usually milky chocolate eyes were now hard and almost black in frustration. He was very unhappy. Hearing footsteps once more, I looked at the door to the living room and saw Fiona. Her dyed blonde hair was held up with a plastic pink clip and she wore a nearly see-through pink camisole, pink pajama bottoms, and white fluffy slippers. She nearly glared at me before noticing my father and I looking at the brochures and paperwork that was laid on the coffee table. She paled considerably. She apparently didn't count on me finding them, or showing them to my father.

"Kylee why don't you go fix something to eat while Fiona and I discuss this?" My father suggested.

I nodded hopping off the couch and grabbing my bag from the floor, as I walked past Fiona she turned to shut the door behind me, as I made my way to the kitchen the door shut and that's when the raised voices and shouting began.

About a half hour later I was making white rice when the twins arrived home. Fiona and my father were still at it arguing in the living room, the shouting had stopped at least. Shelby and Gabriella came into the kitchen in their dance attire. Both wore unitards, Shelby's was neon blue and Gabriella's was neon pink. Both also had legwarmers, Shelby's were dark green and Gabriella's were purple. Their hair was up, but I had a funny feeling despite looking very good in their outfits, neither of them worked very hard.

"Where are mom and Charlie?" Gabriella demanded as she sauntered into the kitchen.

In the time Fiona had married my father, I had never once heard the twins call my father Dad, and it was always by his first name, Charlie.

"In the living room, they've been arguing for a while." I said shortly turning the stove burner off.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gabriella and Shelby exchanged a worried look. Honestly though I doubted it was a concern that the two were actually fighting. Most likely they were more worried as to why they were fighting.

"Mom doesn't argue." Shelby said disagreeing with my statement.

I just shrugged putting my rice into a bowl, I moved past them. I wasn't really about to argue with the wonder twins about whether or not their mother argued. As I entered the hallway the living room door, which had been closed for nearly an hour, opened. My father came out of the room with the brochure, papers, and other official work that was once scattered across the coffee table, under his arm. Although he came out his face was still tense and his eyes were still black. He headed off to the den; I heard the familiar click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. Before I had a chance to scurry off to the security of my room Fiona came out into the hall as well. Her face was tear-stained with her makeup leaving a trail as well; she was glaring at me hatefully. If looks could kill…I'm sure I'd be in an eight foot grave. I had a funny feeling that the next three months of my newly acquired summer freedom were going to be interesting.

How right I was.


End file.
